Pride & Prejudice: Femslash Edition
by Larraine Lynch
Summary: What happens when you put a female-Darcy, Elizabeth, Jane, and Caroline into P&P all with a preference for the fairer sex? Add to that a clueless Bingley, a gay Mr. Bennet, and a mother bear Mrs. Bennet? Chaos, missed cues, and misunderstandings abound. Don't worry...they're bound to find their happy endings by the end of the book!
1. Chapter 1-5

By Jane Austen & Kaliar Trilt

This is a project I started for two reasons. One: I love Pride and Prejudice. Two: I tend to be crap at sticking with a story. I have about 4 notebooks of drabbles and unfinished fanfiction in various fandoms at this point. I feel that this type of story where I am adding and changing elements from an already established text, I can find the drive to finish. And, by God, I will if I have to keep whittling at it for the next 5 years.

For anyone embarking on this journey with me, pairings will be fem-Darcy/Elizabeth and Jane/Caroline. I'm attempting to add or change at least 30-40% of the original text in each chapter. Chapters in the original P&P are short, so you can expect at least 3-5 chapters per posting. I won't at this time promise a publication schedule, but I will try to get an update to you at least once a month.

Feel free to ask any questions or shoot me any comments. Would be happy to hear from you. Oh and if you are interested in a finished P&P femslash, check out Gay Pride and Prejudice. It's amazing. Trying not to re-read it at this point because I don't want it to sway my vision of this piece too much!

**Note: 11/23.** It was brought to my attention that the lack of backstory and some missed pro-noun changes caused some confusion over if Darcy was male, female, or something in between. This week I went through the first 5 chapters and made some edits and change to fix this issue. Sorry for any confusion for the people who read the first draft.

For the people who would like to review the changes; The majority of the changes are in the first three chapters. If you don't want to re-read to see the changes, I'll summarize any changes in the beginning of the next new chapter.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Time, political events, and societal pressure has re-crafted that universal truth. At the current social climate of this particular tale, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man or woman in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a husband or wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a person may have on their first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that they are considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters until a preference is made for the same sex. At which point match making mama's regroup and turn possession of the young man or woman to their other sons or daughters.

"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. It was an instinctual reply. If Mrs. Bennett asked him if he desired sugar in his tea or a first edition of the Holy Bible he would have answered with the same response. "No, dear."

"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it."

Mr. Bennet made no answer. Instead he buried his nose further into his rather thick book.

"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.

Mr. Bennett rolled his brown eyes. Why oh why had he chosen a wife? Surely a husband would have nagged him far less. Would have taken his poor nerves into consideration. "You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."

This was invitation enough. Mrs. Bennett smiled, patted down her upswept brown hair, and began with relish. "Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week."

"What is his name?" Mr. Bennet looked up from his book. He watched impassively as his wife vibrated with glee.

"Bingley."

"Is he married or single?" God help them all if he was single. There would be no peace in his small estate until the lad went running for London or professed a love for kilts.

"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"

Mr. Bennet sighed. He lowered his book. "How so? How can it affect them?"

"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

"Is that his design in settling here? To choose a young lady to wed?"

"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes." Mrs. Bennet reached for her husband's book. Mr. Bennet yanked it out of reach and placed it in his lap.

"I see no occasion for that. How should we know his preference? How tiring it would be to make his acquaintance if he has not the slightest inclination to marry any of our girls. What is the use of visiting him if he prefers men? You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the party." Mr. Bennet lip curled upward at the thought. How grand that would be. Fanny remarried. That would leave him open to pursuing a less vexing groom.

"My dear, you flatter me." Fanny said. She enthusiastically paced around the dining room her skirts swooshing around her. "I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."

Mr. Bennet suppressed a snort. "Were not you gazing into a mirror for nigh 2 candle marks this morning?"

"Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet sniffed. "Even woman with 5 daughters ought to be well put together. After all you can never be sure when a handsome gentleman will call."

Mr. Bennet looked up from his book. He turned a page. "You don't see me primping."

"Maybe you should, my dear. You must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the neighborhood." Mrs. Bennet turned to study her husband. Wild grey hair. Wrinkled coat and pants. Ink stained hands. The man looked a mess. Not at all like the gentleman a young Fanny dreamed of wedding. More like a crazy man who had wandered into her home and helped himself to her tea. And then wandered out again to find a young man to ogle. Mrs. Bennet sighed. The lord led her in a frightfully disappointing path.

"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."

"But consider your daughters. You must attend him. Our girls cannot afford for us to assume that every young man entering the village prefers the harder lines of the male form." She huffed when she spied her husband's glazed eyes. Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips at the image of gentlemen dandy who was more drawn to her wild, insane husband rather than her beautiful, accomplished girls.

Fanny Bennet began to fan herself. She swayed slightly before staggering to one of the worn wooden chairs. She clutched at the polished oak. Bingley preferring her husband! How had life come to this? Why had she never considered the fact that there was a chance that the few men entering the neighborhood might not be for her girls?

The young Fanny had not cared a wit that the sole heir to the British crown eloped with his male paramour, and then demanded that the royal family and the entirety of the Ton accept the match. At the time she had just entered her second confinement. Her babe, restless even in the womb, had spent that last months of her pregnancy mercilessly kicking her, so she had not really listened when her own dear Mr. Bennet began talking of the crown prince threatening to defect to the America's.

By the time her second youngest was spitting up all over the dresses Fanny had meticulously sewn for her, Fanny was gleefully talking about all of the wealthy heirs and heiresses who were entering the marriage market with an eye on their own sex. Fannie had loved it! She had never had so much gossip to exchange with all of the fashionable ladies in the neighborhood. As Lady Lucas had said, why should they not pursue the spouse of their choice if they have the funds? And if it gave Fanny something to occupy her mind with, so much the better.

By the time Fanny was in her fourth confinement, society had altered to construct new social norms to govern the inclusion of same-sex matches. And as long as all parties accepted these norms, they were welcomed with open arms by almost all into every fashionable neighborhood.

Mrs. Bennet wanted to stomp her feet. Scream. Plead with god to ensure that Mr. Bingley gay or straight would be drawn to one of her girls and not her past-his-prime husband. "Mr. Bennet! You will leave Mr. Bingley to your girls."

Mr. Bennet rolled his brown eyes. "Really Mrs. Be—."

Fanny scowled. She dug her fingers into the chair back. Why would her husband never cooperate? Fanny would ensure that Mr. Bennet understood the importance of not seducing the young newcomer. "Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. The wealth. The security. Surely Mr. Bennet you can understand the need for your daughters to wed well. The need to curtail your lustful urges to the right time and place."

Mr. Bennet clenched his fist around the book. "Madame, I have been curtailing my urges for the last twenty-five years. I have been discrete, have I not?"

Mrs. Bennet flushed. "You have. I—" Mrs. Bennet swallowed. "you're family appreciates it."

Mr. Bennet nodded. He arched an eyebrow. "Joy."

Fanny ignored Mr. Bennet's sardonic comment. The man could get testy when he contemplated the fact he had married Fanny a mere three years before same-sex marriage had become accepted. Mr. Bennet would need to push past his angst. Fanny did that all the time.

Fanny continued, "Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, for their unwedded children, for in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not." Oh how vexing it would be if Mr. Bingley preferred women, and the Lucas' queer daughter caught Mr. Bingley. Fanny paused, maybe she should encourage Lizzie to temporarily distract the girl…Fanny paled as she truly considered the match.

The Lucas girl had an even lower dowry than her girls. Such an equally unfortunate match between two females that could not provide for themselves could ruin the family in the eyes of all civilized high society.

Mr. Bennet began to collect the various papers that he had spread across the breakfast table. "You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls...even you; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy." Although he doubted Lizzie would accept any offer made to her by any man.

Mrs. Bennet ignored her husband until Lizzie was mentioned. He could not be serious! Lizzie would never attract a sophisticated gentleman. "I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. And I'm pretty sure she may be that way. You know like the Crown Prince. I saw her holding hands with Charlotte Lucas again. Mr. Bennet, you must talk to her about the impossibility of that match."

"This way. That way. I care not as long as Lizzie does not start giggling inanely or chasing red coats." Mr. Bennet shifted in the stiff wood chair. He old bones protested the movement.

"There is naught wrong with admiring a chiseled male form wrapped up in a red uniform." Mrs. Bennets eyes glazed.

"I cannot argue that," Mr. Bennet said. He smiled, god had he enjoyed chasing after his share of red coats in his day. Mr. Bennet returned the conversation to his daughter "And as for Miss Lucas, Sir William will never allow the match, and our Lizzie is too smart to elope."

Mrs. Bennet ignored her husband's reassuring words, "You are always giving her the preference. Worse, you never caution or guide her to carefully toe the line of what is acceptable for her since she began showing signs that she preferred women."

"I give Lizzie preference because they have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters." And Mr. Bennet would never speak it, but he felt a special connection with the daughter whose eyes strayed far too often on the fairer sex.

"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves. If you did, you would guide Lizzie away from the more masculine characteristics and mindsets she has developed since she began to show signs that she preferred women." Mrs. Bennet fanned herself with her hands. Her husband was not good for a calm disposition.

"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least." Mr. Bennet rose from his seat. He tucked the book and his papers in the crook of his arm. "And Lizzie is very aware she is not the heiress to a grand estate. She does not ask women to dance at assemblies, nor does she attempt to join me when visiting gentlemen."

"Ah, you do not know what I suffer."

"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."

"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them." Mrs. Bennet felt lightheadedness sweep through her body. She fell bodily into the time worn chair. Images of her and her Lydia living in the hedgerows. Starving. Wearing rags. God to wear rags. How could they stand it? And Lizzie…she would probably take to living in the streets with irritating ease.

Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow at his wife's drama. "Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all. And I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, when Lizzie begins to step over her bounds I will speak to her."

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married, preferably to wealthy gentlemen—although she wouldn't turn away wealthy heiresses; its solace was visiting and news.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always intended to visit him—after all Meryton society had so few examples of the superior male form…and, well, if he ever wanted to escape his wife's nerves, he would need to play his part in marrying off his daughters. Though to the last always assuring his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he suddenly addressed her with:

"I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy." Mr. Bennet fought to keep a straight face. The hat was, in truth, a monstrosity. Uneven stiches, jagged cuts, and hideous fabric—his Lizzie was no hatter. Lizzie arched an eyebrow. Her lips quirked in a half smile.

"We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes," said her mother resentfully, "since we are not to visit." Mrs. Bennet shot Mr. Bennet a frown. She crossed her arms across her well-endowed chest.

"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him."

"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of her." Mrs. Bennet grabbed her younger daughter Mary's cross stitch. She began jabbing the needle through the cloth erratically. Mary watched in horror as her meticulous rendition of the last supper was marred with red trails of string. It looked a bloody mess. Mary sighed.

"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that you do not depend on her serving you." Mr. Bennet sat back and linked his ink stained hands. He waited for his words to register in his wife's woefully slow mind.

Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply. She continued viciously weaving the red ribbon through Mary's creation. A hacking cough erupted in the silent room. Followed by another and another. Unable to contain herself, began scolding one of her daughters.

"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces." Mrs. Bennet threw the cross stitch. It landed on the floor. Mary dove for it.

Kitty coughed again, a lacy pink handkerchief pressed against her lips. "Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times them ill."

"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully from behind her kerchief. "When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?"

"To-morrow fortnight." Lizzie watched her sisters, mother and father closely. A small smile played at her lips. Her family was ridiculous at times, but she could not deny she loved these moments of insanity just fine from the privacy of her own home.

"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for she will not know him herself."

Mr. Bennet turned to his wife. He should have guessed that his wife would need more than veiled references to ascertain he had already made the mans acquaintance. "Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce Mr. Bingley to her."

Mrs. Bennet frowned. Why did her husband always tease so? He really had no compassion for her nerves. And did Kitty really need to continue coughing so? "Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself; how can you be so teasing? And Kitty really! We know you are there! You can stop that incessant racket."

"But I can't—," Kitty began.

"I honour your circumspection." Mr. Bennet cut in. "A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight. But if we do not venture somebody else will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance; and, therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will take it on myself."

The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense, nonsense! It would be improper."

"Mother is right, father," Mary said. She looked up from the bloody rendition of the last supper. "Proper society has rules that we all must follow. Without them we would be little more than rutting beasts."

"Mary!" Jane and Lizzie exclaimed. Lydia and Kitty began to titter. Mrs. Bennet was too caught in the horrifying vision of Charlotte Lucas wedding Mr. Bingley.

Mr. Bennet thought it best to ignore the slightly colorful interpretation of societal rules. "What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he. "Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you there. What say you, Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read great books and make extracts."

Mary wished to say something sensible, but too cut up in her last great remark knew not how.

"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to Mr. Bingley."

"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife. Mrs. Bennet threw herself out of her chair.

"I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me that before? If I had known as much this morning I certainly would not have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now." And why would he want to. The lad had been too cute for words. He may need to call on the lad again to bask in his young puppyish beauty.

The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished and not at all what he wished; that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; Lizzie shrugged. Jane gazed at her sister imagining the beautiful young man. Lydia took the opportunity to steal the lace from a distracted Kitty's gown. Mary imagined another young fellow for her to perform for. Mrs. Bennet threw herself at her husband. Bennet huffed as her elbow drove into his stomach. Then she attacked him with her lips.

When she had finished attacking him, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the while.

"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never said a word about it till now." Mary frowned. Her poor cross stich would have been far better off if his father had been as open and honest as the parson suggests.

"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr. Bennet; and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife. God he needed to bury himself in a man, but since that wouldn't happen anytime soon a good book would have to do.

"What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the door was shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; or me, either, for that matter." Although Mrs. Bennet, it would be far better if he didn't play so. "At our time of life it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances every day; but for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you are the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball. And Lizzie…" Mrs. Bennet began. Lizzie looked at her mother. Jane leaned closer to her. "Just don't distract Mr. Bingley."

"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I'm the tallest."

The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to dinner.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him in various ways—with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, interested in women, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party of unwed men and women. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained by all except Elizabeth whose eyes were firmly focused on her good friend Charlotte.

"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield," said Mrs. Bennet to her husband while lounging in bed with her husband, "and all the others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for." Mr. Bennet grunted in reply before returning to his catalogue of Mr. Bingleys delightful features.

Within a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about ten minutes with him in his library. Mr. Bennet attempted to talk about the great poets of their time. The lad's only contribution seemed to be a love of the tic poem by John Donne. Mr. Bennet moved the conversation swiftly to the weather.

Mr. Bingley had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the father—who seemed to ogle his breaches far too much. The ladies were only marginally more fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse.

An invitation to dinner was dispatched hours after his visit; and already had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable to accept the honour of their invitation, etc.

Mrs. Bennet invaded Mr. Bennets library with the news. "He's not to come", she exclaimed. "What did you do, you wicked man."

Mr. Bennet looked up from his ledgers. "I believe we talked about the merits of John Donne on a fine autumn day."

"John Donne indeed!"

She continued to be quite disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen, a few of whom were rumored to be that way, with him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a number of ladies and over the idea of some of the few men being more interested in chasing breaches than skirts, but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only six with him from London—his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five altogether—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young woman.

Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Miss Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by her fine, tall person, beautiful features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of her having ten thousand a year and being in the marriage market for a young lady.

The gentlemen pronounced her to be a fine figure of a woman—although they mourned over the idea she would never fall for them. They had to be content with the fact that they would now be able to enjoy her beauty during their gentlemanly pursuits. The ladies declared she was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley and more beautiful than the Bingley sisters, and she was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till her manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of her popularity; for she was discovered to be proud; to be above her company, and above being pleased; and not all her large estate in Derbyshire could then save her from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with her friend.

Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. He was even kind enough to dance with a few of the interested gentlemen. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend!

Miss Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of her own party and avoiding the eye of all in the room. Her character was decided. She was the proudest, most disagreeable woman in the world, and everybody hoped that she would never come there again. Amongst the most violent against her was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of her general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by her having slighted one of her daughters.

Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of heterosexual gentlemen and wealthy homosexual women, to sit down for two dances with her dear friend Charlotte; Elizabeth smiled and teased the elder woman, at one point she clasped their gloved hands together.

Charlotte shifted away from her friend. "My dear Lizzie," She whispered, "you know we cannot." Elizabeth heart beat in her breast as she felt Charlotte's hand slip from her grasp. Then Charlotte walked away to join her mother near the edge of the dance floor.

At that exact moment, Miss Darcy had been standing near enough for Elizabeth to hear a conversation between her and Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend to join it.

"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with."

Elizabeth felt her breathe rush from her lungs. Miss. Darcy preferred the fairer sex. Elizabeth's gaze trailed over the fine form wrapped in green silk. The high cheekbones. The severe line of her full lips. Elizabeth blushed at the thought of dancing with the woman. She had never danced with a woman before.

"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Miss Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet. She was currently stealing glances at the younger Miss Bingley from her position in Mr. Hursts arms. Darcy fought back a smile as Caroline returned the interested gazes instead of conversing with her sister.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you." Mr. Bingley turned his head in the young ladies direction.

Elizabeth blushed. She snapped her gaze to her clasped hands. What would it be like, truly, to dance with a woman? To, in a way, proclaim it was someone like Miss Darcy she dreamed of marrying?

"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, she withdrew her own and coldly said: "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men and women. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Miss Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained frozen. Her dreams of dancing with the woman shattering. Elizabeth felt anger stir.

Later she told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, Mrs. Hurst had talked to her avidly about the weather, and Miss Bingley had kissed her on the cheek in farewell. Jane was as much gratified by this as her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all that they had yet learnt to care for at a ball. And Lizzie had spent three dances talking intimately with Charlotte which could not be destroyed by their later seperation. They returned, therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a book he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a good deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a different story to hear.

"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with her twice! And Miss Bingley kissed her on the cheek! Only think of that, my dear; both brother and sister were enchanted. And she was the only creature in the room that was so distinguished by both! First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand up with her! But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody can, you know."

At this Lizzie interjected, "Mother!"

Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes. "Oh Lizzie, I know you have a particular regard for the poor girl, but she has not enough to her name to be a prudent match. Not to worry dear I'll find you a beautiful lass after Jane has married Miss or Mr. Bingley." Lizzie flushed and her sisters tittered. Jane smile sympathetically.

Mrs. Bennet turned back to her husband. "And he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and asked her for the two next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the Boulanger—"

"If he had had any compassion for me," cried her husband impatiently, "he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of his partners. Oh that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!"

"Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown—"

Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Miss Darcy.

"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting her fancy; for she is a most disagreeable, horrid woman, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring her! She walked here, and she walked there, fancying herself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given her one of your set-downs. I quite detest the woman."

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

When Jane and Elizabeth were alone sitting face to face on their mattress, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very much she admired him.

"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—so much ease, with such perfect good breeding!" Jane said. She smiled at the memory of the young man. Her smile fell a bit as her mind skipped from the man to his gorgeous sister.

"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth drawing Jane from her thoughts, "which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete." Elizabeth fought to keep a straight face.

"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment." Jane blushed. She smiled at the idea of the affable gentleman, but she couldn't help but wish his sister had asked her to dance.

"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me never. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable and, I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person."

"Dear Lizzy!" Jane grabbed Lizzie's arm. "Be serious."

Elizabeth grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. "Oh! I am, you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in your life." Lizzie pressed their hands together.

"I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think." Jane rested her hands in her lap. She watched her sister continue with a glint in her brown eyes.

"I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough—one meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design—to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone. And so you like this man's sisters, too, do you? Her, well, his manners are not equal to his."

Jane remembered the woman's cool blue eyes and the pressure of soft lips against her cheek. She couldn't fight back a smile. "Certainly not—at first. But they are very pleasing women when you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming neighbour in her."

"Charming neighbor indeed," Elizabeth said, her eyes glinting in amusement. "Very charming if she continues to gift you with kisses when parting."

"Proof of her charming nature." Jane replied.

Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and with a judgement too unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve them.

They were in fact very fine ladies; not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of making themselves agreeable when they chose it, and Miss Bingley chose to be at her most charming near Elizabeth's sister. Otherwise they were proud and conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with people of rank, and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and their own had been acquired by trade.

Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to purchase.

His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but, though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no means unwilling to preside at his table until she found a wife of her own—nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider his house as her home when it suited her.

Mr. Bingley had not been of age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour—was pleased with the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately. And the charming young ladies in the area encouraged him to think well of the decision.

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, and ductility of her temper, though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley had the firmest reliance, and of her judgement the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient, but Darcy was clever. She was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and her manners, though well-bred, were not inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually giving offense.

The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much.

Mrs. Hurst allowed it to be so—but she admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom she would not object to know more of. Miss Bingley spoke not once her brother had staked his claim, but she found Jane Bennet to be the most enchanting woman she had ever beheld. It mattered not that the family, aside from the second eldest was an embarrassment. She would take the family connection if she could claim the girl. Miss Bennet was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorized by such commendation to think of her as he chose. Miss Bingley couldn't help but hope her brother's emotional connection was as fleeting as usual.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town; and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him courteous.

Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was Elizabeth's intimate friend. Although Lady Lucas had worked hard to steer Charlotte away from being intimate in every sense of the word with Miss Elizabeth Bennett. The match would not do. Not when both young ladies had no fortune to speak of.

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary even with the tension between Charlotte and Elizabeth; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.

"You began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. Mrs. Bennet daintily held a teacup in her hands. She smiled at the dowdy woman. "You were Mr. Bingley's first choice."

Charlotte forced a smile. "Yes; but he seemed to like his second better." Charlotte tried not to look at Elizabeth who was smiling softly at her. Why, oh why, Charlotte berated herself for the hundredth time, had she accepted her dear friend's kisses? They could never cross that line again. Good sense demanded it.

"Oh! you mean Jane," Mrs. Bennet proclaimed drawing Charlotte from her self-recrimination. Charlotte tightened her fingers against her own tea cup. When would the reminders of her own unsuitability stop?

Elizabeth lips twitched at her mother's very obvious attempt to pretend a surprise she did not feel. Her heart beat fast in her chest at Charlotte's proximity. Charlotte, as her mother professed on multiple occasions was not a beauty, but she had a gentleness and frankness about her that Elizabeth couldn't help being drawn to. This, Elizabeth thought, her gaze watching Charlotte gracefully raise the cup to her thin lips, is a woman I can spend my life with.

"I suppose," Mrs. Bennet continued, "because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather believe he did—I heard something about it—but I hardly know what—something about Mr. Robinson." Mrs. Bennet gazed at the collection of women. Surely, one of them would take the bait. How vexing if no one did. How was she to crow about her good fortune if no one helped?

Lady Lucas fought the urge to roll her eyes. No, such an action—although warranted when dealing with Fanny Bennet—would not demonstrate her genteel class. No one spoke for long moments. They daintily nibbled biscuits, sipped tea, and gazed at various areas of the room not occupying Mrs. Bennet.

"I'm sure it was Mr. Robinson." Mrs. Bennet said again. She grasped the tea pot. Lady Lucas reluctantly edged the cup closer to Fanny.

As Fanny poured the dark liquid into her cup, Lady Lucas dutifully filled in the information Mrs. Bennet desired. "Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'"

Mrs. Bennet beamed. The good lord was clearly compensating for the fact her husband was so vexing. "Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed—that does seem as if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know." Mrs. Bennet fell silent. Gazed down at her tea cup and started visibly when she saw the empty cup. Now she would have to wait until someone realized her cup was empty.

Elizabeth leaned forward to dutifully pour her mother tea—if her arm happened to brush against her dear friends arm, well on-lookers would just assume it was a casual, platonic, and accidental touch between friends. Charlotte Lucas' breathe caught. Her limbs froze. It was long moments until her dear friends soft skin finally gave one last delightful brush. Charlotte licked her lips. For a moment her wide, startled eyes met Eliza's mischievous ones.

"Thank you, Lizzie," Mrs. Bennet said.

Charlotte dragged her eyes away from Eliza only to meet her mother's disapproving frown. Charlotte felt her stomach turn. She had thought last night's rebuff had been enough. Her father would be hearing of this event tonight if she did not act. "My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza," said Charlotte. "Miss Darcy is not so well worth listening to as her friend, is she?—poor Eliza!—to be only just tolerable."

Elizabeth froze. Not at the words, but the biting tone and the way Charlotte dragged her eyes across her form with her lips curled in disgust. Eliza looked away, her hands shook. Eliza knew she was no great beauty, but to hear it from the woman she loved hurt.

Mrs. Bennet bristled. She was by no means an intelligent woman, but she could identify a cut better than most. Lizzie was her least favorite daughter, but she was still her daughter. "I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by her ill-treatment, for she is such a disagreeable woman, that it would be quite a misfortune to be liked by her. Did you not tell me last night that she sat close to you for half-an-hour without once opening her lips, Mrs. Lucas."

"Are you quite sure, ma'am?—is not there a little mistake?" said Jane. "I certainly saw Miss Darcy speaking to her."

Mrs. Bennet could have kissed Jane for continuing the conversation. She could always count on her Jane to be sensible and kind. Mrs. Bennet stole a glance at Elizabeth. She was sitting her head bent over her teacup. Her body rigid. "Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he could not help answering her; but she said she seemed quite angry at being spoke to."

"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that she never speaks much, unless among her intimate acquaintances. With them she is remarkably agreeable."

"I do not believe a word of it, my dear." Mrs. Bennet felt anger stir in her breast when Elizabeth finally looked up, and she spied unshed tears stirring in them. Miss Lucas, thought she could hurt her daughter without consequence, did she? Let us see, Fanny thought, how the Lucases like being cut. "If she had been so very agreeable, she would have talked to Mrs. Lucas. But I can guess how it was; everybody says that she is eat up with pride, and I dare say she had heard somehow that Mrs. Lucas does not keep a carriage, and had come to the ball in a hack chaise."

The room froze at the very blatant slight. Lady Lucas felt her cheeks flush red. Jane stared at her mother in horror. Eliza's head tilted just a hint.

"I do not mind his not talking to my mother," said Miss Lucas, "but I wish she had danced with Eliza." Elizabeth felt her throat tighten at this additional sign of rejection. Surely Charlotte wouldn't try to match her with another? Hadn't they come to an accord months ago when they kissed? Eliza was drawn from her thoughts by her mother.

"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with her, if I were you."

Elizabeth felt like her tongue was made of lead. Finally she forced words passed her lips. "I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with her."

"Her pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young woman, with family, fortune, everything in her favour, should think highly of herself. If I may so express it, she has a right to be proud."

"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive her pride, if she had not mortified mine." Please, Elizabeth thought, I do not want Miss Darcy. I want you. Don't destroy this.

"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."

"If I were as rich as Miss Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day."

"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs. Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly."

The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she would, and the argument ended only with the visit.

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><p>End Note: Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave me some reviews. Feel free to let me know if I missed anything or if you found yourself with questions that need to be answered.<p> 


	2. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

_Notes:_

So here is Chapter 6 a little quicker than I planned. Thanks lezberomantic for the review! First one, yeah. If this story does get popular—I expect it might take a bit. A bit off the beaten path as far as femslash goes, so I appreciate all of my readers!

As for Lizzie being hurt by her very practical friend Charlotte, expect a bit more of that in this chapter. Don't worry though, Lizzie can expect some relief on that front soon…I don't want the story to turn into a total angst fest!

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><p>The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst; Miss Bennet's shy glances, graceful movements, delightful blushes, and soft-spoken words enchanted Miss Bingley. Miss Bennet's willingness to accept Caroline's desire to clasp hands, brush arms, and lay intimate kisses on her cheek—filled Caroline's dreams with visions of a future with Jane; and though the mother was found to be intolerable and silly, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with <em>them<em> was expressed towards the two eldest. For although Mrs. Hurst declared Elizabeth Bennet wild and uncouth, Miss Bingley had recognized a sisterly bond between the elder Miss Bennets that she might be able to utilize to woo her dear Jane away from Charles.

By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest pleasure. Jane couldn't help but delight in the intimate touches that Caroline graced her with. She knew to accept such touches from a single lady was highly improper, but surely nothing untoward would happen while the lady's brother, Mr. Bingley, still pursued her? For in cases like this—surely feelings between a man and woman would win out. This, Jane told herself, is just the interaction of two woman who might one day be sisters.

Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them; although Elizabeth had to admit that Miss Bingley in particular showed a decided kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in all probability from the woman's sapphic admiration. To Elizabeth, at least, it was generally evident whenever Caroline interacted with her sister, that she _did_ admire her.

Although to _Elizabeth_ it was evident that Jane was not yet sure if she should yield to the preference of the sister or the brother. Elizabeth knew that poor Jane had begun to entertain feelings for them both, and had no idea which she should ultimately favor with her affection and love; but she considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.

The two women sat before a tea tray at Lucas Lodge with the door firmly open and a maid dutifully stitching in the corner of the room. This, Charlotte had told Elizabeth yesterday when the met in town, was the only way they could meet. Charlotte had used a lot of words to describe their current situation—the ones that burned the most were impossible and improper.

"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, pulling Elizabeth from her painful remembrance, "to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing—" Charlotte paused here and made sure that she had her young friend's attention. For Elizabeth was still showing a decided preference for Charlotte. Charlotte met Elizabeth's eye before finishing with the word "him."

Elizabeth felt the breath leave her chest. When had things gone so wrong? Did love always bring pain? She pulled in a deep breath, made a move to clasp Charlotte's hand, then thought better of it. "Charlotte," Elizabeth begun. "Surely, you of all people know that not all young ladies seek to fix gentlemen."

"Elizabeth," Charlotte began, "And you know that not all ladies can with prudence follow those preferences." Elizabeth caved in on herself. The smile that had so enchanted Charlotte for the past four years was absent. These days Charlotte was rarely graced with it. Elizabeth's tender regard for Charlotte and Charlotte's inability to enter such a financially unsuitable match was destroying them. If Charlotte did not fix this, she knew that they wouldn't even have the comfort of platonic friendship. They had to have this conversation now.

Charlotte gazed over at the curly haired maid who was watching this exchange with a fascinated gaze. "Sally," Charlotte smiled at the girl. "I think Lizzie and I would like some biscuits. Could you go fetch them?"

Sally set aside her cross stitch. The maid shook her head. "I'm sorry miss. Your father made it very clear that I was not to leave."

Charlotte sighed and nodded. She lowered her voice. "Lizzie. I'm sorry. I wanted this to be a private conversation, but I'm afraid it cannot be delayed."

Lizzie nodded. Charlotte smiled fondly as the woman's brown curls bounced. Charlotte had the urge to clasp her dear friend's hands, but thought better of it. Lizzie would have a hard enough time accepting her exclamation without Charlotte sending mixed signals. "Lizzie," Charlotte began. "I love you. I do, but sometimes love is not enough."

"Love is always enough," Lizzie said. The younger woman straightened then. Her usually playful expression serious. "I have seen life without love. It is not a happy path Charlotte."

Charlotte gazed down at her teacup. She traced her fingers over the flower. "Great poets, great men, have long referred to women as flowers."

Elizabeth snorted. "Really Charlotte, poetry?"

Charlotte smiled grimly. "Flowers like woman are delicate. They are very susceptible to the circumstances of their surroundings. And when plucked by the wrong person. Lizzie it can be catastrophic."

Elizabeth shook her head. That damned curl jerked erratically. Charlotte felt moisture build behind her eyes. She blinked it back.

Elizabeth moved to clasp the hand that repeatable traced the red rose on the tea cup. Charlotte jerked her hand away. "Charlotte, we can control our own destinies. You must…I have to believe that."

Charlotte lowered her voice enough that when she spoke Elizabeth had to scoot closer to hear.

"Let's say we wed. What would our life be?"

"We would have each other." Elizabeth breathed. For a moment she could imagine it. A small cottage. Years of bliss. Their children. Everything she had ever imagined rushed through her mind in one moment.

"For how long? I know you have this idyllic image in your head."

Elizabeth blushed. "It would be perfect."

"It would be. For a day, a week, a year, it would be perfect. One day though living with our relations would get old. And that's if they allow us to live with them."

Elizabeth fell silent as the magical scene in her mind began to lose focus. "And what about children? I yearn for them, Lizzie."

"The Crown Prince managed to produce an heir." The words came out stronger than her last ones.

Charlotte tightened her grip on her tea cup. She blushed and spoke in a low tone. "By agreeing to bring a woman into their marriage bed. Lizzie, if I have you, I cannot share you. Not even for children."

"Then we adopt." Lizzie said.

Charlotte shook her head. For a long moment they sat in silence. Charlotte was acutely aware of the maid's sidelong glances at the pair. Lizzie looked as if her hopes and dreams were shattering before her eyes.

Charlotte felt her throat tighten. "I love you, but I'm not like you. If we do not wed, your next choice would be another woman. And Lizzie, I'm sure you'll find a rich duchess who will lavish you with gifts. A woman who will have a close male friend you or she can create gorgeous children with."

Elizabeth shook her head at this image. "Charlotte no."

"But I, Lizzie, I can love a man. I can desire a man just as much as a woman."

"Like Jane," Elizabeth breathed. She had tears rolling down her cheeks. For a moment she could see what might have been. Then like a flower in a spring storm, it was torn asunder.

Charlotte leaned forward and clasped her hand around Elizabeth's forearm. "Like Jane."

For a moment they gazed at each other. Then Charlotte returned her mind to the previous conversation. Elizabeth was dabbing at her cheeks with a handkerchief Charlotte had stitched for her. "Charlotte?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes?"

"Can we not speak of this again? It hurts too much." Elizabeth forced her lips into a weak smile.

Charlotte nodded. She poured Elizabeth and herself more tea. "Let us return to your sister conundrum, shall we? I know you think it is imprudent to demonstrate affection too early."

Elizabeth and Charlotte fell into awkward silence. After all Elizabeth had never feared being vocal about demonstrating her own affection for Charlotte.

Charlotte pushed forward, "But if a woman or man does not show their affection, it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. At least by demonstrating affection, there is a chance. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all _begin_ freely—a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a woman or man had better show _more_ affection than they feel. Mr and Miss Bingley like your sister undoubtedly; but they may never do more than like her, if she does not help them on."

Elizabeth sipped het tea absently before saying, "But she does help them on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard for them, they must be simpletons, indeed, not to discover it too."

Charlotte sighed. Lizzie could be so pig-headed about some things. Jane was definitely one of them. She envied that they have such a close relationship. "Remember, Eliza, that Mr and Miss Bingley do not know Jane's disposition as you do."

Elizabeth glanced over at the maid Sally. She was avidly watching the pair with wide eyes. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortable, very conscious of her own red eyes. Elizabeth forced herself to refocus on the discussion. "But if a woman is partial to someone, and does not endeavor to conceal it, that person must find it out."

Charlotte smiled. It had been very easy, even before they had kissed, for Charlotte to recognize Elizabeth's affection. "Perhaps Miss Bingley might, she sees her enough. But, though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane, if she chooses Bingley, should therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses."

"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in question but the desire of being well married, and if I were determined to get a rich wife, or any wife, I dare say I should adopt it. But these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard for either nor of its reasonableness. She has known them only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, and has since dined with him in company four times. Miss Bingley she has spent slightly more time with. Still in either case this is not quite enough to make her understand their character."

"Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have also been spent together—and four evenings may do a great deal."

"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded."

"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life."

"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself."

Charlotte said not a word for a moment before turning the conversation to local gossip. They spent a pleasant hour discussing safe topics before Charlotte and Elizabeth parted for the last time as possible lovers. It made Elizabeth's heart ache at what she lost, but she could not deny that the conversation allowed the longtime friends to interact without a constant fission of pain underlying every action. For the first time in months, Elizabeth felt hope for her own future.

* * *

><p>Two nights later at Sir William Lucas's where a large party were assembled, Elizabeth was occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend.<p>

Miss Darcy stood next to Miss Bingley at the outskirts of the ballroom. The pair had been conversing about Darcy's younger sister Georgiana until Bingley had started to converse with Jane. Miss Darcy observed the girl smiling softly at Bingley. Her gaze kept wandering away from his enthusiastic friend as if she were looking for someone. Caroline, Darcy noted, clutched at her fan so tightly that it had to be painful.

Bored, Darcy glanced away from the worrying love-triangle the Bingley's had stumbled into. Her eyes drifted around the room. Her lips tightened in disapproval at the site of the younger Bennet girls running through the hall. Her gaze wandered by a young woman in a light crème gown before backtracking.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; she had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, she looked at her only to criticize. Mrs. Hurst had been delighted at her caustic remarks about the ladies lack of charms; Miss Bingley had narrowed her eyes at Darcy and spent the rest of the night in a stormy silence. Maligning the sister of her lady love was not acceptable. Darcy determined that future comments would be unwise.

But no sooner had she made it clear to herself and her friends that Miss Bennet hardly had a good feature in her face, than she began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though Darcy had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, she was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of her asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, she was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this Elizabeth was perfectly unaware; to her Miss Darcy was only the woman who made herself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with.

Darcy began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her herself, Darcy left Caroline to brood over Jane and Bingley alone. She rested her hands lightly against her hips as she attended to Miss Elizabeth Bennets conversation with others. Miss Darcy's silent and still figure, her form pleasing in a deep blue gown drew Elizabeth's notice.

Despite the heart-to-heart of two days before, Charlotte and Elizabeth easily returned to the deep friendship that had been present before their ill-decided sojourn onto lover lane. So when Elizabeth noticed Miss Darcy lingering in the peripheral of all her conversations, it was to Charlotte that she went to seek counsel. "What does Miss Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?"

Miss Lucas smiled at her friend in greeting. It was good, Charlotte reflected, to still interact with Elizabeth. There were too few eligible gentlemen, so the night had been dreadfully dull. "That is a question which Miss Darcy only can answer."

"But if she does it any more I shall certainly let her know that I see what she is about." Elizabeth frowned briefly before smiling mischievously at Charlotte. Her gaze wandered to the Miss Darcy. The woman was gorgeous. A muscular form draped in blue silk. Her silky brown hair swept up into a bun. It was a shame that such a specimen of fine woman was paired with an unbearably proud character. "After all Charlotte, Miss Darcy has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of her."

On Miss Darcy approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such a subject to her; which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to her and said:

"Did you not think, Miss Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?" Elizabeth tilted her chin up impertinently. The slight curve of a smile brought an unbidden smile to Darcy's own lips.

"With great energy," Darcy said. She gazed briefly Miss Elizabeth's friend. Darcy couldn't quite recall the elder woman's name. Miss Luc-something or other. Then returned her gaze to the woman who had captured her attention all night. "But it is always a subject which makes a lady energetic."

"You are severe on your own kind, _Miss_ Darcy." Elizabeth allowed her gaze to drop to the woman's décolletage. She was distracted from the point she was trying to make for a moment by the hint of the other woman's pale breasts.

Darcy flushed at Miss Elizabeth's blatant interest. Her heart beat rapidly and her mouth dried. Surely Elizabeth was not attracted to women? In Darcy's experience few young ladies shared her particular interests.

Miss Lucas shifted uncomfortably. Her dear friend was still starring like a dolt at Miss Darcy's cleavage. And poor Miss Darcy seemed to be mortified by the attention. Charlotte scanned the room briefly. No one had noticed the tense exchange yet. Now was the time to repay Lizzie for some of the pain she had caused her these last months. "It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."

Elizabeth dragged her gaze from Darcy. She flushed when she saw Charlotte's teasing smile. Elizabeth mortified, refused to look at Darcy. Instead she seized the conversational safety line that her dear friend had thrown her. "You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers."

Miss Darcy felt the absence of Miss Elizabeth's gaze acutely. Such an intense gaze was unnerving—but it was also intoxicating. Darcy was used to men showing her that type of attention—even with her preference known, she encountered very few woman of her own sphere who could truly return her regard. If only Miss Bennet were not such an unsuitable match.

As Miss Darcy was reflecting on the horror of Miss Bennet's familial situation, Miss Lucas was coaxing her friend into taking a turn at the piano. Finally Elizabeth said, "Very well, if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing at Miss Darcy for the first time since her unfortunate fascination with the woman's cleavage, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge'; and I shall keep mine to swell my song."

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room.

Miss Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too much engrossed by her thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began:

"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Miss Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society."

Miss Darcy barely refrained from rolling her hazel eyes. God save her from uneducated men. Instead she straightened, clasped her hands behind her back, and answered. "Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance."

Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Miss Darcy."

"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."

Sir William nodded. The motion caused his portly frame to jiggle the slightest bit. "Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James's?"

Miss Darcy clenched her hands together. "Never, sir."

"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?" Sir William glanced once again at the dancing couples wistfully.

"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it." Darcy did not feel the urge to tell the man that she had no interest in the young chit's match making mama's threw her way. She did not need to crush the dreams of a young girl who preferred the chiseled physique of the male form. Nor could she take another disappointment.

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Sir William swallowed. He felt the urge to rub at his bald head. Conversation was not usually this difficult. He searched his mind for a topic. "You have a house in town, I conclude?"

Miss Darcy bowed. The movement was a controlled, stiff descent—as if the motion could cause significant pain if not executed properly.

Sir William stared at the lady for a moment. Not sure if he was more thrown by the bow or non-verbal answer to what was clearly a last-ditch attempt at polite conversation. After a moment Sir William decided it fell to him to continue the conversation. "I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself—for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas."

He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing—if it freed Sir Lucas of the obligation to continue this stressful conversation well that was a bonus—, so called out to her:

"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Miss Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you." And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Miss Darcy who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William:

"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."

Miss Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion. By god, he needed Miss Eliza to save him from this conversational disaster.

"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentlewoman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour."

"Miss Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.

"She is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?"

To Sir William's distress, the young lady was not inclined to agree with his scheme. Elizabeth looked archly at the man before turning and walking away. After a moment of tense silence. Sir William muttered something about his eldest daughter and fled.

Miss Elizabeth's resistance had not injured her with the gentlewoman, and she was thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley:

"I can guess the subject of your reverie."

"I should imagine not." Darcy looked over at the woman who stood once more beside her. Caroline Bingley wore a blue gown. Her lips were pale and pinched. Her blue eyes were flashing with irritation. An irritated Caroline Bingley often led to caustic remarks that she later regretted.

"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!"

Normally Darcy would agree, but she knew feeding into Caroline's anger could lead to a very public scene. One which could lead to some very unsavory conversations between Charles and Caroline at home. "Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Surely Miss Darcy had not discovered the wonders of her Jane? Miss Bingley did not know what she would do if she must compete with Darcy and Bingley for the woman's affection. Miss Darcy replied with great intrepidity:

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. It was only a lifetime of lessons in the proper comportment of a lady that kept her sagging with relief. "I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?—and pray, when am I to wish you joy?"

Darcy turned away from Caroline. Her eyes scanned the room again for the object of her fascination. "That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."

"Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed; and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you. And with any luck, you will have many pleasant holidays with her elder sister Jane." At the thought of Jane with Charles at Pemberley, Caroline's mood darkened.

Darcy listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain herself in this manner; and as Darcy's composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.

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><p><em>End Note<em>: I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to provide feedback. I'll try to get the next chapter to ya'll in the next two weeks. I want to give you an earlier date, but I don't want to start promising dates I can't deliver on! Better to prep ya'll to expect failure, so you'll be wowed by my sticking with the story!


	3. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 **

Notes: One again thank you for everyone taking the time to read, review, and follow this story. I'm glad that so many people are enjoying it. Please let me know if you have any other comments. Or if I did not catch any mistakes or pro-nouns in Darcy's case that I forgot to change.

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><p>Mr. Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, had long ago been entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother's fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds.<p>

She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers' names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

Mr. Bennet sighed from behind his book. He had been staring at the same page for the last quarter of an hour. Every time he began to be swept away by _Paradise Lost_, his two youngest would giggle, shriek, or puncture the quiet morning with an irritating exclamation about the current object of their idolatry.

Mr. Bennet slammed his book shut, then dropped it onto the table when Lydia once again interrupted what had started as a promising morning with, "La, Captain Carter is a handsome man!"

Mr. Bennet, although fond of male physiques himself, coolly observed:

"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced."

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London.

Mrs. Bennet looked up from her sewing with a frown. Her husband stood, his right hand resting lightly on his beloved book, frowning at their children. The children that he should be guiding through this world. Instead he spent the majority of his time either ignoring or criticizing all of his children that were not his poor backwards Lizzie. "I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be of my own, however."

Mr. Bennet picked up his book. He rested it in the crook of his arm as if it was a child. He did not look at Catherine who was chewing on her lip gazing between the pair or Lydia who was curling her hair around her finger while imagining herself with dozens of gentleman lovers. "If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it."

Mrs. Bennet put down her sewing needles with a soft clink. Her mind catalogued all of her children. Were some of them silly? Yes. Did it help to continually berate them, when the father made no move to correct that lack of emotional and intellectual intelligence? No. Mr. Bennets job was to cultivate that intelligence. Mrs. Bennets job was to prepare them to catch a suitable husband or wife. She could not do that if Mr. Bennet continually shattered her younger children's confidence. "Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever."

Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes. He pushed his matted, unkempt hair from his face. He looked briefly at his children. Lydia was fanning herself while debating whether officers looked better with short or long hair. Catherine was staring into her tea cup as if it had the answers to the universe.

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "This, madame, is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish."

"My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will not think about officers any more than we do." Mrs. Bennet stopped for a moment. Unsure if that statement left any hope for her children. Mrs. Bennet knew for a fact that Mr. Bennet's many trips into town these days were to visit a few of the more flamboyant officers. Without her! If he was to have fun, why could he not bring some of that fun home? She had been stuck with a kilt chasing husband for far too long.

Best not to mention his own current attachments in front of the children, Mrs. Bennet thought before continuing. "I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well—and, indeed, so I do still at my heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him; and I thought Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in his regimentals."

Mr. Bennet sighed. He picked up his tea cup to finish it off. If Mrs. Bennet would not see reason, who was he to shatter her perfect image of Catherine and Lydia. He had disappointed her on so many fronts. Surely he could leave her with the illusion that her children were not silly girls who had no hope of a good match.

"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's library."

Mr. Bennet sputtered. His pale, wrinkled skin took on a bright blush. Mrs. Bennet glared at Mr. Bennet. Colonel Forster and Captain Carter were both very attractive, virile men. Did he really have to selfishly keep all of the good ones to himself? Why was it that the only ones he never took to "the library" were men she would never want to sleep with?

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet immediately forgot about her husband paramours. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,

"Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."

"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,—

"If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother, Mr. Hurst, and Miss Darcy are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,

"CAROLINE BINGLEY"

"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell us of _that_." Lydia twirled around the room. "Oh, mother, we must attend."

Catherine giggled. "Yes, mother. We must!"

Mrs. Bennet ignored her younger children. She made a mental note to explain why one did not invite themselves to attend dinners where they did not receive an invitation. The reminder was quickly forgotten. "Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."

"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane. Jane felt like joining her younger sisters in twirling around the room. She felt like pulling her mother into a dance. To see Miss Bingley soon. And without Charles to distract her. The sister, Mrs. Hurst, would be in attendance, but she would still have the pleasure of conversing with Caroline for a few delightful hours. Of watching her delightfully expressive face. Of listening to her sharp tongue, talking about some of her less savory acquaintances from the Ton.

Mrs. Bennet gazed out the window. The sky was dreary and grey. Now Mrs. Bennet wanted to skip. She took a deep breath, then said, "No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night."

"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home." While Elizabeth doubted Caroline wouldn't seize the chance to spend more time with Jane, she would not allow her sister to travel to Netherfield Park in the rain.

"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton, and the Hursts have no horses to theirs." Mrs. Bennet could practically hear the wedding bells. Her Janey was getting married soon. Mr. Bingley would be such a great son-in-law.

Jane glanced from the dark clouds outside, to her mother who looked ecstatic, to Elizabeth who was looking beseechingly at Mr. Bennet. "I had much rather go in the coach."

"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?"

Mr. Bennet ignored his daughters. "They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."

"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's purpose will be answered."

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly could not come back.

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><p>"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following note for Elizabeth:<p>

"MY DEAREST LIZZY,—

"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones—therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me—and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.—Yours, etc."

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."

Mrs. Bennet rose from the table. She kissed her husband on the lips and ignored his look of distaste. "Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage."

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there." Mrs. Bennet fanned herself with her hands. She collapsed into her chair. Images of a dirt caked Elizabeth sending the scandalized Bingleys from Netherfield before Mr. Bingley married Jane danced through her head. "Mr. Bennet. Do something!"

Elizabeth ignored her mother's histrionics. "I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want."

"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the horses?" Mr. Bennet did not bother to rise from his chair. After all, Lizzie would never agree to ride a horse, not even for her dear sister Jane.

Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of climbing onto the easily frightened beasts. "No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner."

"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required." Mary turned the page of her bible. Really, Elizabeth's fear of horses was surprisingly, well girlish.

"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and Lydia. Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off together.

"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before he goes. Lizzie, you can join us. Captain Carter said, he did not care if his future wife prefers women."

To this Elizabeth made no answer. In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.

She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their brother's manners there was something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness. Miss Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his breakfast.

Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together after many minutes of fussing over Jane, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.

When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact, nothing to do elsewhere.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the choice to remain at Netherfield to care for her dear sister. When Elizabeth declined, Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it; when Jane testified such concern in parting with her, Elizabeth was obliged to accept the initial offer to remain at Netherfield for the present, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.

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><p>End Notes: And Elizabeth and Jane are finally interacting with Darcy and Caroline in the next chapter!<p> 


	4. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

Here is Chapter 8. The good news is that I spent the weekend changing all of Darcy's gender pronouns. Which means that the rate that I finish chapters should increase somewhat. I should be able to at this point commit to at least one or two chapters a week.

For those who do not know, I edited the first three chapters. Here's what you need to know.

One: Miss Darcy has taken on a more male role as the heir to her estate than Caroline. This explains the differences in what groups they meet with and why Miss Darcy has more social freedom.

Two: Origins of the pro-gay sentiment was delved into a little more thoroughly. Basically the crown prince gave an ultimatum to his parents. Accept my husband or I'm heading to the continent. The royal family accepted them and the Ton followed.

Three: Despite the acceptance societal rules were put in place to govern who could engage in homosexual relations in a government sanctioned manner. This allows for the female heirs to inherit, marry women, and act like one of the guys. All matches needed to be from parties who were financially stable.

Read. Enjoy. Review.

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><p>At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very favourable answer. Jane was by no means better.<p>

The sisters, on hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves; and then Mrs. Hurst thought no more of the matter: and her indifference towards Jane when not immediately before her restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her former dislike of the dowdy lady.

The brother and the younger Miss Bingley, indeed, were the only one of the party whom she could regard with any complacency. Their anxiety for Jane was evident; although to Elizabeth, Mr. Bingley demonstrated a deeper attachment. Mr. Bingley repeatedly returned the dinner conversation to the state of the Jane's health. Miss Bingley, on the other hand, engaged in conversations about Jane's illness, but her worry for Miss Jane Bingley warred with her responsibility to be a proper hostess and the inability to express such a deep connection to Jane Bennet in front of her brother.

Despite Caroline's initial determination to include Elizabeth, she had very little notice from any but Mr. Bingley. Even Miss Bingley, who she had been inclined to think well of, spent the meal engrossed in a conversations that both Miss Darcy and Mrs. Hurst introduced in order to distract Caroline from her worry. Elizabeth spent the evening listening to gossip about the London elite, the mountains of Pemberley, and the latest play that had enthralled all of the Ton. And as for Mr. Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Hurst began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst finished her dialogue about the country woman with:

"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild." Mrs. Hurst paused for her sister to contribute to her character assassination.

Miss Bingley starred at the white door separating her from the Bennet women. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. Caroline had checked out of the conversation as soon as Elizabeth Bennet left the room.

Mrs. Hurst's slightly chubby cheeks fell into a frown. She studied the lines of worry marring her sister's fair skin. Her eyes fell on the ridiculously simplistic upsweep of Caroline's auburn hair. This was not the gentlewoman who Mrs. Hurst had spent the last ten years crafting to perfection. Not the young woman who would solidify a marriage with an influential member of the Ton. The Bennet's had transformed her sister into a no-body. Louisa Hurst hands shook with rage. She continued her diatribe.

"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."

The comments did not gain Caroline's attention. Instead her brother Charles, who was slumped in his chair, cut in. "Your picture may be very exact, Louisa, but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

Miss Bingley's blue eyes moved from the intricately carved door to her brother. Caroline's lips pursed with displeasure at the argument about the Bennet's suitability while her Jane was ill. Determined to put a stop to the conversation, Miss Bingley started. "We cannot judge Miss Eliza based on the strict rules of the Ton for our sex, Louisa. Miss Darcy, I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your_ sister make such an exhibition, but—"

"Certainly not," Darcy said. Darcy paled slightly at the idea of her innocent sixteen-year-old sister wandering the fields of Pemberley alone and unprotected. Unlike Miss Darcy her younger sister had not been trained from birth to inherit the male birthright. Miss Darcy pulled at her cravat. She swallowed heavily.

Mrs. Hurst dove at the negative turn of the conversation. "To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum."

"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Bingley. He leaned forward, his right hand braced on the maple table.

Mrs. Hurst seemed to swell in indignation. Miss Bingley looked between her siblings. Now was not the time to start a row, especially about an honored guest who she had invited into her brother's home. In an attempt to draw the conversation to an end, Miss Bingley began her voice pitched in a half whisper, "I am afraid, Miss Darcy, that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."

Miss Darcy glanced at her friend. Caroline's head was tilted down playfully, her eyes were shining, and her lips were twitched in a delightful smirk. Miss Darcy felt her own lips curl. This Miss Bingley was enchanting. This Miss Bingley she could at times see a marriage alliance with A picture of another pair of fine eyes and saucy grim filled Darcy's mind. That picture felt right. "Not at all," she replied; "they were brightened by the exercise." A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:

"I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled." Mrs. Hurst paused. She glanced briefly at her besotted siblings. God save her from love and lust sick young gentlemen and women. Louisa could see her father's dreams of a future in the cream of the ton disintegrate. She continued, "But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."

Miss Darcy shifted in her chair. She felt her hair that was pulled into a queue slither against her overcoat. She cleared her throat uncomfortable with a reminder of the inferiority of the Bennet' connections." I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."

"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."

"If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."

"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men or women of any consideration in the world," replied Darcy. Miss Bingley met Miss Darcy's eyes. Miss Bingley, like her brother, did not seem swayed by this reminder. Miss Darcy clenched her fists against her trousers. She looked away. As a woman filling a man's role, she lived a fine line of acceptability. She did no dare step further out of line.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but Mrs. Hurst gave it her hearty assent, and indulged her mirth for some time at the expense of her dear friend'svulgar relations.

* * *

><p>Miss Bingley unwilling to listen to her sister's objections any longer, returned to Jane's room on leaving the dining-parlour. Mrs. Hurst, unwilling to leave Caroline alone with the Bennet's, followed her sister. They conversed with the Bennet's about Meryton society, embroidery, and the fine winter day till summoned to coffee.<p>

Miss Bingley upon leaving, rested her right hand against Jane's flushed cheek. Jane smiled at the obvious gesture of affection from the woman who might one day be her sister. She turned her cheek into the touch. The warmth seeping through Caroline's gloved hand caused Caroline to bit her lip. Fevers could be dangerous, especially far from properly trained London physicians. Caroline felt her sense of duty to her family and Miss Darcy disintegrate. Caroline was pulled back to her present at her sister's impatient command to come. Still Caroline did not move until Jane whispered that she should go.

Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go downstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular."

"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Mrs. Hurst while studying her hand, "despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else."

"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I am _not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."

"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley smiling at the woman; "and I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well." He glanced back at his hand and frowned. Blast, his hand, was shot again. He threw his cards facedown on the table.

Caroline smiled at the obvious sign of weakness. At this rate he would need to sell his lease to her. Caroline glanced from her brother to Miss Bennet when the woman thanked Charles for his weak attempt to win the woman over. Elizabeth walked towards the table where a few books were lying, her blue skirts swirling around her legs with every step. As Elizabeth trailed her long tanned fingers over the covers, Mr. Bingley immediately offered to fetch her others—all that his library afforded.

"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever looked into."

Caroline smiled in approval when Elizabeth assured her brother that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room. Every sign of gentility shown by Jane and Elizabeth gave her hope for the rest of the Bennet family. Surely the youngest if guided in the right direction would one day acquire the same level of acceptability. In order to contribute to the conversation, Miss Bingley said, "I am astonished that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Miss Darcy!"

"It ought to be good," she replied, "It has been the work of many generations." Miss Darcy glanced at Bingley to see if he had made his move. Upon seeing the cards abandoned on the table, Darcy placed her own down.

Caroline saw her sister open her mouth to steer the conversation back to a topic that will, no doubt, insult Miss Eliza. Caroline grasped her sister's gloved hands. She squeezed in a silent warning to behave. Caroline smiled and then said, "And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books."

Miss Darcy pretended not to observe the subtle interplay between the Bingley women. She bowed her head in Caroline's direction. Despite Mrs. Hurst's, she behaved like an upstart merchant's wife far too often. "I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these."

Caroline returned her hands to her lap. "Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_ house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley."

Charles smiled at his sister. His mind was full of a possible future with one beauty currently resting in one of his guest rooms. "I wish it may."

Caroline felt a slither of unease when her brother glanced longingly at the door. Jane and Charles. Living blissfully together in Netherfield Park. It would not due to torture herself before the potential union was decided. "But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."

Charles Bingley tapped his feet on the hard wood floor. He glanced at his tall, silent friend. "With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."

Caroline threw her cards on the table. She felt a fission of irritation at the broad smile on younger man's face. "I am talking of possibilities, Charles."

Charles leaned back in his chair. The legs of the front rose from the floor. Upon seeing Darcy watching the motion, he slowly lowered the chair back to the proper position. He quickly returned his gaze to his sister. "Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."

Caroline rolled her blue eyes. Did Charles always need to seek the easiest path?

Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister, to observe the game.

"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley once the game once again commenced; "will she be as tall as I am?"

"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller." Miss Darcy glanced at the woman. The woman's fine eyes met Darcy's own. The woman arched a brow at Darcy teasingly. Darcy felt a flush rise from her breasts and creep past her cravat. She was relieved when Miss Bingley once again drew the conversation onward:

"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite."

"It is amazing to me," said Bingley as he threw down some cards, "how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are."

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?" Caroline frowned as she saw Charles smile at Elizabeth before continuing his diatribe.

"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished."

Darcy threw a few chips into the center of the table. Elizabeth could not help but carefully observe the supple pull of muscles visible through the overcoat. The woman's was very dashing in her suit. "Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy. She shook her head. "Has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished."

"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley. She arched an eyebrow in Charles' direction. Really, the boy was like an overeager puppy.

"Then," observed Elizabeth to Caroline, "you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman." Elizabeth watched as Caroline's gaze broke from her brother.

"Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it." Caroline's mind turned to Jane Bennet. She was the only truly accomplished woman that Caroline knew. She did not even count herself in that tally.

"Oh! certainly," cried her faithful assistant, "no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved."

"All this she must possess," added Darcy her mind turning to the image of Elizabeth gracefully turning the pages of her book, "and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."

Elizabeth straightened in her seat. She glanced between the various members of the Netherfield party with wide eyes. "I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_."

Miss Darcy frowned. "Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all this?"

"I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe united." Elizabeth dared them to object with her cool gaze.

Mrs. Hurst cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and was protesting that they knew many women who answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room.

"Elizabeth Bennet," said Mrs. Hurst, when the door was closed on her, "is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art."

"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, "there is a meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies and gentlemen sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable."

Mrs. Hurst was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to continue the subject.

Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones being sent for immediately; while Miss Bingley, convinced that no country advice could be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most eminent physicians. This Elizabeth would not hear of; but she was not so unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet were not decidedly better.

Bingley was quite uncomfortable; Mrs. Hurst declared that she were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper. Miss Bingley could find no better relief to his feelings than by giving the housekeeper directions that every attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister. She spent the entire night pacing her room, dreading the housekeeper would send news of Jane's worsening condition.


	5. Chapter 9

Here is the 9th chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it! Let me know if you have any question or comments about the chapter or the story in general. Thanks for keeping with this story so far. I appreciate all of the peeps who have followed, read, and left reviews for this story. I promise to keep working on fixing any pro-noun issues I have missed. If you do see any specific ones, I would appreciate you filling me in on specific circumstances (Just pop in the sentence or chapter and I can go from there.)

And someone asked about the male/female garb. I explained a little more this chapter. I'll have to go back and ensure that the confusion is cleared up. According to polite society of the time, young heiresses like Darcy who have been legally given a male role in society by their families can in less formal circumstances and during male predominate functions wear male garb. Despite this legal precedence, Miss Darcy is still female, so during cases that would require full dress or times when their are a number of female short term guests, she would need to wear lady garb. Let me know if this does not clear it up. Sorry for not putting it in earlier-was actually working through the fashion for this stories timeline this week.

I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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><p>Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the inquiry which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid.<p>

Not long after the maid left, Miss Bingley arrived to wait on Elizabeth's sister. Jane smiled drowsily at the elegant red head draped in an intricate blue and silver day gown. Elizabeth greeted the woman conscious of her own wrinkled dress. Caroline sat herself in an empty chair near the foot of the bed. She rested her hands on the green coverlet keenly aware that Jane's legs were mere inches away. She watched the gradually rise and fall of Jane's chest for a moment.

After Jane drifted to sleep, Elizabeth and Caroline spent the next two candle marks conversing about the only topics they possessed in common: Jane, Meryton society, and the last ball that they both attended. Just as Elizabeth and Caroline exhausted every avenue of conversation, Mrs. Hurst entered the room.

"Caroline, you did not tell me you planned on visiting Miss Bennet." Mrs. Hurst said, her voice blasted past Elizabeth and Caroline like Napoleon's cannons.

"Sister, Miss Bennet is sleeping." Caroline said through clenched teeth. She glanced over at the sleeping object of her affection. Jane blinked drowsily. Her too pale lips opened in a yawn. She looked like an angel in a white shift.

"She seems to be awake, sister." Mrs. Hurst bustled into the room. She filled the final seat next to her sister. "Breakfast will be served very soon, Caroline." She glanced at Miss Eliza who looked frightful with a wrinkled mud green gown and fly away strands of hair, and then at their sickly guest. "Miss Elizabeth will you be joining us? And you as well, Jane."

Elizabeth shook her head. Her hands brushed over the cotton fabric across her knees. She could not break her fast in her current ensemble at Netherfield. "You must excuse me. I'm not presentable, I fear."

Mrs. Hurst peered down her nose at the younger Bennet woman. "Too bad."

Caroline held in a wince. Could not her sister try to be a little genuine? In an effort to cover her sister's lack of manners, Caroline turned to her Jane. "Miss Bennet. Are you well enough to join us?" Caroline kept her words gentle. She smiled at the woman.

"I'm afraid not." Jane coughed into a handkerchief. The continued wracking coughs caused her to bend in on herself. Caroline stood. The chair she had been sitting in scrapped against the hard wood floor. Caroline stood hands out as if to enfold the sickly woman. Desire once again battled social acceptability. This woman was not Caroline's to comfort. When Elizabeth slipped onto the bad and grasped her sister's hand, Caroline allowed her own arms to fall to her side.

After long moments the coughs subsided. The room was silent save for Jane's haggard, wheezy breaths, Elizabeth's croons of encouragement, and Mrs. Hurst impatient huffs. After long moments, Caroline asked, "Should we summon the apothecary?"

"No," Jane said. She coughed once more. "I've been feeling much better, Miss Bingley."

"You are sure?" Caroline asked. She ran green eyes over Jane's form. The woman was pale and she seemed to be quivering.

"I just." Jane said. Her pale cheeks flushed and her eyes fell to her hands. "I still feel a bit ill, I'm afraid."

"Then let me summon—" Miss Bingley started.

"No. I _am _feeling better." Jane's gaze drifted to Mrs. Hurst. The woman, like her sister, frowned. Jane felt warmth spread through her. To be so accepted by this family felt wonderful. Jane smiled. "I promise, Miss Bingley, if nothing has changed by tonight, you can call the apothecary."

Miss Bingley shook her head. "If you are not improved by tonight we will summon our London physician."

Jane pushed herself to a sitting position. Her shift slipped off her right shoulder. Caroline found herself captivated by the pale skin. After a few moments, she dragged her eyes away from the delightful sight. Caroline forced herself to focus. "Miss Bingley, it is our responsibility to provide all the care we can."

Elizabeth watched the exchange. She appreciated any sentiment that protected the health and safety of her sister, but she did agree with Jane, her sister had improved. "We appreciate the sentiment, Miss Bingley, but my sister has improved. The time were a London physician is needed has passed, but if you would prefer my sister will see the local apothecary."

Jane glanced at Elizabeth. Elizabeth said, "We will all feel better if you consent."

Jane nodded. She smiled at Caroline. Caroline felt her cheeks pinken under Jane's attention. "Your concern is appreciated."

Caroline wrapped her hands together. She bowed her head at the lounging woman. The movement made a few strands of hair escape from their upsweep. The strands of auburn hair framing the woman's face made her seem more gorgeous.

"We'll have a maid bring you some soup," Caroline said. Jane and Caroline smiled at each other for long moments. Elizabeth fought to hold back a smirk at their obvious distraction. The moment broke when Mrs. Hurst complained that the food surely was cooling.

* * *

><p>After the Bingley's left the room, Elizabeth returned to her room and summoned a maid to help her into a pale blue morning dress. After the woman finished curling her hair with papers, Elizabeth requested of the maid to have a note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.<p>

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. Miss Jane Bennet felt the burden her illness has placed on Mr. and Miss Bingley acutely, so proposed being carried home. Mrs. Bennet would not listen to her daughter's proposal; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable.

After sitting a little while with Jane, Miss Bingley's appeared to ascertain Jane's health for herself. Caroline stood in the doorway and observed the room unseen. Mrs. Bennet appeared to be in the midst of a very spirited and very loud narrative about the Lucas family. The youngest Bennet girls giggled and whispered together at the foot of Jane's bed. Miss Eliza seemed to be attempting to guide the conversation into less boisterous terrain. Caroline watched as Jane winced when her mother pierced the silence with a serious of "las."

Caroline adopted her court smile and stepped into the room. After being greeted and complimented by Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bingley invited, the mother and three daughters to attend her in the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected. Miss Bingley stewed as her brother once again became the object of all attention.

"Indeed I have, sir," was Mrs. Bennet's answer. Mrs. Bennet paused for a moment. This next bit would take all of her skill. She must appear to believe that Jane's removal from Netherfield would be dire. She imagined the horror of living on the street after Mr. Bennet passed. "She is a great deal too ill to be moved." Mrs. Bennet felt her breath hitch as she had a sudden image of digging through garbage. "Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."

"Removed!" cried Bingley, dragging Mrs. Bennet from the notion that she might one day discover the taste of rat. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal."

"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility. She felt the urge to throttle Charles for his stealing Mrs. Bennet's attention from her. She saw now, that she was nothing to the woman. Not while Charles might court her daughter. Better the male heir, than the possibly queer third daughter with fortune, but no land. "That Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she remains with us."

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments to Mr. Bingley. Miss Bingley she smiled at and thanked momentarily before returning her attention to the master of the house.

"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to _her_."

Caroline glanced over at the woman's other girls. The two youngest seemed to be absorbed in a private conversation unaware of their mother's slight. Miss Eliza observed the conversation with a slight flush on her face. Familial embarrassment. A notion Miss Bingley was not unfamiliar with. Mrs. Hurst had no notion of her own inferiority amongst the gentry of the Ton. And her brother chased after pretty faces until he angered one or another of the girl's relations—either by forgetting the girl or by making known his preference for someone out of his social sphere.

You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over the gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease."

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."

Miss Bingley pursed her lips at the reminder of her brother's fickleness. More than once _she _had been required to beg forgiveness from people higher in the social stratum for missing social obligations she had agreed to when he decided to flit elsewhere.

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth. She glanced at her mother who she knew might go into a speech about the merits of the area and her Jane at any moment.

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her.

"Oh! yes—I understand you perfectly," Elizabeth smiled in a cheeky manner that she knew from experience coaxed people into continuing to converse with her.

"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."

Elizabeth smiled at the man's humility. "That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."

Caroline could not help reflecting that Elizabeth would not be so blasé about her brother's character, if the woman knew how deep that particular trait ran.

"Lizzy," cried Mrs. Bennet, "remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home." The room fell silence save for the giggles and whispers of the two youngest Bennets.

"I did not know before," continued Bingley after a few moments, "that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."

"Yes, but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing." Elizabeth glanced briefly at her mother who was possessed one of the most intricate characters, Elizabeth knew. If only, that very character that amused her at home, would not embarrass her while in society. "They have at least that advantage."

"The country," said Miss Darcy from her position behind Caroline's couch. "Can in general supply but a few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."

Elizabeth arched a brow at the woman. "But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."

"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by her manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_ going on in the country as in town."

Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Elizabeth gazed at the back of the deep blue dress that curved around the woman's figure. It was jarring to see the woman in woman's clothes after days of observing the woman in men's casual wear.

Elizabeth glanced over when her mother commenced the conversation with an ill-times 'la'. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over her, continued her triumph. "I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?"

"When I am in the country," he replied earnestly to the society mama, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."

Mrs. Bennet nodded at the blond man. He really was a gem that would make her Jane the wealthiest woman in the neighborhood. "Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentlewoman," looking at Darcy who was exchanging glances with a frowning Mrs. Hurst, "seemed to think the country was nothing at all."

"Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. She glanced briefly at the taciturn woman only to find the lady's intense brown eyes on her. Elizabeth held her gaze for a moment before glances away to ensure her mother was listening. "You quite mistook Miss Darcy. She only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town, which you must acknowledge to be true."

Mrs. Bennet sniffed. She felt irritation at her Lizzie distracting Mr. Bingley from realizing how truly blessed he was to be here, in the country, with Jane. "Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families."

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his countenance. His sister, Mrs. Hurst was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards Miss Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away.

"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and easy! He has always something to say to everybody. _That_ is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter."

Mrs. Bennet glanced briefly at the proud and silent figure of Miss Darcy. The woman gazed down at the seated woman with a definite condescending tilt to her chin and mouth.

Elizabeth said. She gazed between her mother and Darcy. From the tense posture of the usually graceful woman, Elizabeth could tell that Miss Darcy had not missed Mrs. Bennet's verbal cut. "Did Charlotte dine with you?"

"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; _my_ daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so _very_ plain—but then she is our particular friend."

"She seems a very pleasant young woman." Mr. Bingley said. The man really had no opinion of the dour and plain eldest Lucas daughter. He was self-aware enough to realize it was because of the beautiful Miss Bennet.

"Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. And she does prefer women more than men, you know. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty and orientation."

Miss Bingley froze. Surely Miss Bennet wound not make such a decided announcement? She noticed her brother perk up at Miss Bennet's announcement of her daughter's sexual orientation. Had Caroline read the signs wrong? Did the woman truly only see her as a potential sister?

Caroline listened with half a mind as Mrs. Bennet continued. "I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane—one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. And I assure you, she has long dreamed of marrying the perfect gentleman. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother Gardiner's in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently all too aware of Miss Bingley's pale distraction and Miss Darcy's silent distaste. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"

"I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love," said Darcy willing to work with Miss Elizabeth to end Mrs. Bennet's uncouth monologue.

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy.

Mr. Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be civil also although the woman seemed to be distressed. Still the woman persevered and said all that the occasion required. She performed her part indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage.

Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.

Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the attention of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners, and her own easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear:

Mr. Bingley smiled at the sister of the delightful Miss Bennet. "I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement and when your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing when she is ill."

Caroline exchanged a look with Miss Darcy. Surely her brother would not allow a child, a seemingly spoiled one at that, to make the final decision about something as complicated as a ball? For the first time, Caroline felt a stab of irritation at Miss Bennet's sisters.

Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes—it would be much better to wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball," she added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not."

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and Miss Darcy; Miss Darcy and Miss Bingley, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_. Despite Miss Bingley's refusal to censure the Bennet family, she did fall into witticisms on _fine eyes_. Such good natured teasing was a much needed distraction from the images of Jane and Charles exchanging vows.


	6. Chapter 10

Hey everyone. Long time, no post. I took an unplanned temporary hiatus over Christmas to spend some quality time with my brother. Now that he's gone the updates should be back on track.

As you probably noticed I changed my penname, I hope that does not cause any confusion. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Let me know if you have any questions or comments at the end of this. Thanks for sticking with me. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 10 <strong>

The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined their party in the drawing-room. The loo-table, however, did not appear. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game. Miss Darcy was writing a letter to her sister, and Miss Bingley, seated near her, was watching the progress of the letter while attempting to facilitate a conversation between Miss Darcy and their guest.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and her companion without any underlying desire to contribute to the exchange. The perpetual commendations of the Miss Darcy, either on her handwriting, or on the evenness of her lines, or on the length of her letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue. Even more curious to Elizabeth was Miss Bingley's attempt to draw Elizabeth into the exchange.

"How delighted Miss Georgiana Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"

Darcy made no answer. She simply continued to etch her message into her parchment with her right hand, while her left rested on her thigh.

Caroline Bingley sat in a forest green day dress on a chesterfield couch crafted of fine mahogany and a dark red cushion. She glanced over at Miss Elizabeth who was watching Miss Darcy's arm move across the polished mahogany side table. Surely if the pair interacted they would realize the match would work? "You write uncommonly fast. Does not she write uncommonly fast, Miss Eliza?"

Darcy paused. She glanced up. "You are mistaken. I write rather slowly." Miss Darcy said, before Elizabeth could even register what Miss Bingley asked of her.

The clipped words seemed to end the conversation for Elizabeth. When Miss Darcy did not offer more and Miss Eliza did not offer an opinion, Miss Bingley tried again. "How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them! Mi—"

Miss Darcy looked up distractedly from her letter. Really could Caroline not leave her in peace? Unaware that Miss Bingley was not finished, Darcy said, "It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours."

For a long moment Darcy wrote, Miss Eliza worked on her needlework, and Caroline glanced from one to the other. "Pray tell your sister that I long to see her." Miss Bingley said. While it was true, Caroline enjoyed the younger girls enthusiasm for music and horses, far more valuable was Miss Darcy's devotion for the girl. Surely such familial devotion would attract a woman like Elizabeth?

"I have already told her so once, by your desire." Miss Darcy dipped her pen in the ink well. She tapped the quill against the edge.

Caroline glanced at Elizabeth. She smiled at the woman. Then she returned her gaze to Darcy. "Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp; and pray let her know that Miss Elizabeth performs marvelously on the pianoforte."

Elizabeth froze in her needle work. Surely neither Miss Darcy or Miss Bingley would bother to report a barely passable piano player from Hertfordshire? Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. The woman continued to scratch her quill across the parchment. Her brown eyes did not stray from the parchment.

Miss Bingley, as if aware of Elizabeth's disbelief, tried one more time to gain the silent woman's attention. "Well Miss Darcy? What think you?"

Miss Darcy sighed. She took a deep breath—as deep as the loose corset under her white linen shirt would allow. "Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice."

Caroline nodded at Darcy and glanced at Elizabeth as if to say, see what a marvelous woman she is. Elizabeth knew not what to think. Was Darcy dismissing the request due to a desire to prevent Miss Bingley from taking over the letter or did she object to mentioning a country miss with no connections?

Caroline waved one elegant hand and smiled demurely. "Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. I shall give her a report on both topics then."

Elizabeth noticed Darcy's lips pull into a frown. Darcy did not like Miss Bingley telling his sister of the poor country miss, she concluded. A slither of disappointment slithered through her. She stabbed her needle through the cotton cloth.

Miss Bingley broke the silence once more. "But do you always write such charmingly long letters to her, Miss Darcy?"

"My letters are only as long as they need to be." Darcy said. She dipped her quil once more into the ink well. She glanced at Caroline as she resumed writing. "Whether they are charming is not for me to decide."

"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill." Miss Caroline began. She opened her mouth to inquire of Elizabeth's opinion on the topic, when her brother chose that moment to invade the conversation.

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her brother, "because she does _not_ write with ease. She studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is very different from yours." Miss Darcy conceded. She brushed a strand of hair from her face that escaped from the queue that held her long ebony hair.

Could she not even contrive to set Darcy and Miss Eliza up without Charles interrupting? "Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."

Charles laughed. He ran a hand through his curly blond hair. "My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them—by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

Elizabeth fought a smile at the image of a scattered Mr. Bingley with his fingers covered in ink composing a letter that consisted entirely of unfinished sentences. Without a doubt her dearest Jane would be delighted to receive such a letter. And how strong of character must a man be to admit such a fault? "Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof."

Darcy felt a stirring of unease as Elizabeth gifted her young, affable friend with a blinding smile. This smile did not accompany Miss Eliza's usual arched eyebrow and raised chin, but it displayed her delightful dimples. Fiona Darcy could not allow for Miss Eliza to be so deceived by Bingley's character. "Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast."

Charles threw a few cards onto the table to appease the frowning Mr. Hurst. Then he returned his attention to the current conversation. "And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?"

Darcy laid down his quill. "The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself—and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?"

"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies." Charles pouted. It was an expression that Caroline had seen Charles use often—it had been she who had helped him perfect it. It had been far easier for the heir to ask and receive the little favors, Caroline coveted.

Charles Bingley was as fickle as the summer, but at least he owned his defects. He fell in love too easily. By now he had had more lady loves than Caroline could count. Caroline just counted herself lucky that her brother had never in a moment of blind passion wandered into less platonic areas. Even Darcy would not have been able to save Charles from that mistake.

"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity." Darcy meticulously folded his letter as she spoke. "Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not go—and at another word, might stay a month."

"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself."

Caroline couldn't help the smile at such a kind interpretation of her brother's ability to be swayed be outside pressure. How alike Miss Eliza was to Miss Jane Bennet. Both able to take the worst defects of humanity and make them something to be celebrated.

Charles Bingley straightened his overcoat. He leaned forward, his arm resting lightly on the table. Mr. Hurst snorted in disgust. "Go, damn you," he snarled. Bingley ignored his brother-in-law, why focus on a brainless relation, when there was a pretty girl to woo?

Elizabeth stifled a giggle at Mr. Hurst's irreverent mumbles.

"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley. He beamed at Elizabeth and tilted his head slightly forward. A single blond curl fell across his brow. "By your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentlewoman did by no means intend; for she would certainly think better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could."

Elizabeth could feel Darcy's brown eyes boring into her. "Would Miss Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intentions as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"

"Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter," Bingley exclaimed. He threw a hand into the air. His cards sailed from his hand and scattered onto the mahogany floor. Mr. Hurst groaned. Mrs. Hurst tittered. Caroline rolled her eyes. Darcy continued to seal her letter in wax. And Elizabeth's lips twitched.

Bingley paused for a second. He glanced at a jack of diamonds nestled beneath a queen of hearts on the floor. "I think that's the game. Sorry old chap." Mr. Hurst stood with the screech of wood against wood. He retreated to a forest green chaise and collapsed into it.

Mr. Bingley returned his gaze to Miss Elizabeth, "As I was saying, Darcy must speak for herself on the matter."

Miss Darcy shifted in her chair. She reflexively flexed her fingers against the letter in the right hand repeatedly. Miss Elizabeth studied her with the same intensity that Darcy reserved for difficult estate problems. Darcy felt like retreating into the safety of her quarters. She had no desire to sit her and deal with the Bingley family's melodramatic penchant for mangling her logical opinions. "You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety."

Elizabeth rolled the sewing needle between her fingers. Miss Darcy held eye contact for a moment before shifting her gaze to Caroline. Elizabeth wondered at this inability to maintain eye contact. Did Miss Darcy not respect her enough to conduct a proper conversation? Elizabeth placed her stitch work into her lap. "To yield readily—easily—to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit with you."

Miss Darcy frowned. She maintained eye contact for a moment before glancing at Bingley who was flipping through the cards on the table. "To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either."

"You appear to me, Miss Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"

Miss Darcy fought a sigh. It was far too late for a conversation of the social conventions of society. She placed the cap on the ink well before answering. "Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?"

"By all means," cried Bingley. He dropped the cards back onto the table. Lord, when had this conversation made such a dull turn? Maybe he needed to search for more riveting defects. He could not survive another such conversation, even if a pretty lady fought so ardently to uphold his honor. "Let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay her half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at her own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when she has nothing to do."

Miss Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that she was rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly resented the indignity she had received, in an expostulation with her brother for talking such nonsense. Nonsense that put Miss Darcy, as a tall fellow, in a negative light. Surely Charles did not need to infer that Fiona Darcy might be a bully in front of Miss Bingley. Why did Charles never think?

"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. Miss Darcy frowned. She could see a slight down turn of Miss Bennet's full lips. A distinct absence of the lively air that the woman had often exuded. "You dislike an argument, and want to silence this."

To proclaim a desire to end the blastedly dull conversation might have prompted another stale argument about his defects in upper-crust social conversation, so instead he said, "Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."

"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Miss Darcy had much better clean her quill."

Miss Darcy took her advice, and cleaned her quill.

When that business was over, Miss Darcy applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for an indulgence of some music. Music, a more womanly art, was one which Fiona Darcy had never been required to learn. While she did not regret her lack of skill, she did enjoy listening to talented woman display their skill. Miss Darcy nodded in gratitude as Miss Bingley moved with some alacrity to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead the way which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she seated herself.

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Miss Darcy's eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great a woman; and yet that Darcy should look at her because she disliked her, was still more strange. Elizabeth could only imagine, however, at last that she drew her notice because there was something more wrong and reprehensible, according to her ideas of right, than in any other person present. She wished she could say the supposition did not pain her. Under normal circumstances, she would have liked her too little to care for the woman's approbation. Unfortunately she was reminded repeatedly that Darcy might be her only chance to wed a woman.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air that she knew would encourage Miss Darcy to request a dance from their guest; and soon afterwards Caroline watched as Miss Darcy, drew near Elizabeth and said to her:

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?"

Elizabeth smiled, but made no answer. The woman looked determinedly at Miss Darcy's cravat. It was, of course, expertly tied. Darcy clasped her hands together behind her back. When Elizabeth continued to stare at his neck mutely, Darcy swallowed, and then repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.

"Oh!" said Elizabeth with bashful shrug of her shoulders. The movement caused the lilac gown afternoon gown to shift in a distracting manner. Darcy blushed and fought to keep her gaze on Elizabeth's face. "I heard you before, but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,' that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all—and now despise me if you dare."

"Indeed I do not dare."

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at her gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody.

Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as she was by her. She really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of the Bennet's connections, she should be in some danger. Darcy tried not to dwell on a future with Miss Elizabeth by her side always. Miss Eliza would be good for Georgie. And she would save her from another fifty seasons of dodging match making mamas who repeatedly threw their straight daughters her way.

Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be satisfied; and her great anxiety for the recovery of her dearest Jane was lessoned by the inability to continue cultivating this relationship between her dear friend and Miss Eliza.

Caroline often tried to encourage Darcy into liking her guest, by talking of their supposed marriage, and planning her happiness in such an alliance. Although she did not speak it, Caroline often imagined she and Darcy enjoying a Christmas at Pemberley with their Bennet woman. Occasionally the image of her brother taking her place as Jane's spouse haunted her waking and sleeping moments. When the horrid image slithered into her mind, she threw herself into her match making endeavors with vigor.

"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of speaking wisely while in company; and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after officers. With a little care, I am sure they will make delightful gentlewoman. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavor to encourage that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which your lady possesses. It will make the rounds of the ton much more enjoyable, I am sure."

"Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?"

"Oh! yes. Do let the portrait of you, Georgie, and your new in-laws be placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the judge. It might distract from that unfortunate mole that marred his face. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"

"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied." Darcy felt a slither of guilty elation at the idea of Elizabeth joining the illustrious collection of Darcy portraits. She almost didn't wince at the idea of a Bennet family portrait. She could imagine it. Miss Lydia and Kitty would be fighting over a picture of an officer. Mr. Bennet would be reading. Mrs. Bennet would be sitting in a pile of the Darcy family heirlooms. Poor Georgie would be frozen in horror. Only Elizabeth and Jane would be acting like true gentlewoman. It would not make up for the horror of the rest of their relations. Her entire family would be horrified.

At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and Elizabeth herself.

"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some confusion, lest they had been overheard. Her cheeks pinkened. She did not want Elizabeth to realize how zealously she was encouraging Miss Darcy to ask the second eldest Bennet to marry her.

"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "running away without telling us that you were coming out." Mrs. Hurst eyes bulged in her head. Her nostrils flared. Caroline could practically hear her sisters' shrill complaints that she had left her with the poor guest.

Then taking the disengaged arm of Miss Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk by herself. The path just admitted three. Miss Darcy felt their rudeness, and immediately said:

"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue."

"Yes, it's not far." Caroline smiled at Elizabeth.

But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, laughingly answered:

"No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a fourth. Good-bye."

She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.


	7. Chapter 11

Hey all, thanks for sticking with me through the last 10 chapters. Here is chapter 11.

Before getting started on this chapter, I just wanted to speak a little to my take on Charles Bingley's character. I'm afraid I've made him about of a flighty cad, but I do not intend to make this a "Charles" bashing. We're not going to find out 20 chapters from now that he's been getting innocent young maidens pregnant—although that could be an interesting twist.

I see Charles more as a 20th century young man hitting the dating scene. He gets swept away by beautiful faces, spends a few weeks mooning over the girl in shows of extreme and slightly inappropriate for that time affection, and then realizes when he is separated from the young lady by outside forces, that the infatuation was not love. The difference between Wickham and Bingley in this case is in how far it goes and the underlying motives. This Bingley still doesn't have a bad bone in his body. And to be fair, he was very open about his flightiness!

And without further delay, I give you the next chapter.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11 <strong>

When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth temporarily retired to her room to procure her stitching, before joining her sister and the other women in the drawing room. She strolled into her room with the intent of rushing to ensure Jane was well guarded from the cold. Elizabeth stopped in place when she spied her sister snuggled within what appeared to be three or four thick wool quilts.

Caroline leaned toward Jane with her hands clasping the edges of a cream colored blanket. The portion of Jane's face that was visible appeared to be a flushed with the barest hint of pink. Jane's delicate hand extended from the armor of blankets to clasp with Caroline's own slim hand. "I am warm enough, I assure you Miss Bingley."

Mrs. Hurst cleared her throat. Elizabeth saw the woman's narrowed hands resting on the pair of interlocked hands. Mrs. Hurst appeared to be on the verge of exploding. The woman sat on the edge of the green settee. She pivoted forward a few inches before correcting her less than perfect posture. She would not sacrifice her poise for her sister's inappropriate obsession.

Caroline appeared not to notice. "Very well," Caroline agreed. The woman swayed closer, paused for a moment, uncharacteristically bite her own lip, before releasing the blanket from her left hand. Unencumbered by the thick blanket, Caroline reached over to smooth out the blanket around Jane's face. "Tell me Miss Bennet if that changes. The servants can be sent for additional blankets."

The fact that her gloved fingers brushed the slightly fever flushed skin of Jane's cheek could have by all parties who noticed be considered purely coincidental. Any parties aware of Caroline's preferences would have questioned the accidental nature of the caress, especially when Caroline's hand lingered.

Mrs. Hurst pursed her lips. She watched as her sister released Miss Bingley. The elder woman thought her sister looked a fool. Her poor parents would have been so ashamed if they could see Caroline now. Her auburn hair shoddily pinned up, her curls limp, her blue satin dress wrinkled, and the blanket hanging from her hand in an inelegant heap. It took far too long for Caroline to shed the lovesick look from her face, and begin collecting the blanket. By god what has life come to? When had the Bingley's ever needed to fold their own blankets?

As Caroline laid the blanket on a mahogany side table, Miss Eliza finally approached her sister. After Elizabeth inquired of her sister's health, the two youngest ladies settled into the forest green couch adjacent to the ill woman.

Elizabeth had never seen these particular Bingleys as agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen and Miss Darcy appeared. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit. Although Elizabeth noticed, Caroline Bingley was the superior conversationalist. While her sister spoke well to Caroline, Caroline actively drew Jane and Elizabeth into the conversation.

But when the gentlemen and Darcy entered, Jane was no longer the first object; Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned toward Darcy, and she had something to say to her before she had advanced many steps. Darcy addressed herself to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad" while inwardly rejoicing that the distractions would soon be at an end.

Bingley delivered his salutation with warmth and enthusiasm. The fact that he nigh ran into the room, and then threw himself to his knees before the elder Miss Bennet as if to offer an invocation to a goddess, displeased his sisters greatly.

Mrs. Hurst closed her eyes as if physically pained. Good manners alone, prevented her from placing her slightly pudgy hands over her brown eyes. _Typical Charles_, Caroline could not help think, while forcing herself not to fidget. The last time Charles had made such a spectacle had been during his brief infatuation with the daughter of a vice-count, a Miss Stanforth. The vice-count himself had been in the room to witness the spectacle. Miss Darcy had been the one to extricate an oblivious Charles from his passion filled insanity. It had only taken a month for Charles fell in love with the daughter of a wealthy merchant. The Bingley's had not been invited to events for the rest of that season.

The first half-hour was spent with Charles whispering to Miss Bennet while the room watched. Miss Darcy stood with her hands clasped behind her back directly behind where Caroline stiffly sat. After fifteen-minutes of Charles' monologue to Miss Bennet, Caroline noticed _her_ Jane shiver. Caroline shifted around briefly to face Miss Darcy. "It's a bit cold, is it not?" Caroline inquired.

Fiona Darcy started at the question. Her overcoat, shirt, chemise, and pants meant that she was a bit overheated. Her eyes shifted from Caroline to Elizabeth. Fiona watched as shiver caused Elizabeth's long neck to shiver. Darcy peered around the room for a servant briefly. She sighed. She was master of Pemberley; she did not build fires.

"Miss Darcy, please." Caroline whispered.

Darcy nodded. She spent the next forty-five minutes piling up the fire, lest Elizabeth…and Caroline, of course, should suffer from a change of the room's temperature. Once the fire was crackling merrily, Caroline maneuvered around her brother who was now leaning over Miss Bennet. "Brother," Caroline said, "Don't you think Miss Bennet would be warmer closer to the fire?"

Bingley started. He glanced over at the fire. Miss Darcy stood before it. She dusted her hands delicately against her pants leaving a brown smudge.

Jane protested the move. Caroline said something or other about warmth and sickness. "By Jove, yes," Charles said. He practically vibrated with excitement. The motion caused his sore knees to smart which only fueled his enthusiasm for the suggestion. "Caroline that's a smashing idea."

Caroline opened her mouth to encourage Jane to accept a couch closer to the fire, when her brother started unwrapping Jane from her cocoon of blankets. Jane blushed as the man's calloused fingers brushed her neck, then she leaned away.

"Charles," Caroline exclaimed. She curled her hands into fists. If he did not let go of Miss Bennet, she would hit her brother. She cared not that she only had the experience of one brief lesson given by Miss Darcy before her first season.

Charles arranged the blankets in his arms, and then waited for Miss Bennet to stand. Elizabeth watched the exchange through wide eyes. Mr. Bingley's actions were very inappropriate. If they had been at a more public avenue, it might be enough to ruin her sister. She would not report this to her mother. Jane had looked more uncomfortable than enthusiastic by Mr. Bingley's puppyish attention tonight. Right now, her timid sister, looked downright skittish.

Jane paused for a moment; Caroline smiled at the woman. She held out a hand encased in kid-skin gloves for Miss Bennet. Jane stared at the extended hand before placing her own ungloved hands into the womans'. Caroline clasped the hand and led Jane to one of the armchairs before the fire. Mr. Bingley held a blanket to place around Jane.

"Thank you, Charles," Caroline said, before her brother could compromise their guest any more than he already had. Caroline hesitated. While she would love to place the blankets around Jane again, she feared doing any more damage to the Bennet's perception of her family. Caroline quashed her own selfish desires, and then summoned Miss Bennet to get her sister comfortable.

Mr. Bingley then sat down by her in the only available chair. Caroline hovered for a moment between the chairs before retreating to a seat beside Miss Darcy. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all and knew not what to think.

When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the card-table—but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Miss Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings.

Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Miss Bennet and her brother's conversation, as in reading her own book; and she was perpetually switching between looking at her brother through narrowed eyes, or looking at whatever page she happened to be on.

Miss Darcy gave up on her book as soon as she noticed Miss Bingley's distraction. For once, to Elizabeth's amusement, it seemed to be Darcy that attempted repeatedly to engage the other woman in conversation. Darcy could not win her, however, to any conversation; Caroline merely answered her question, and then continued pretending to read while peering over the top of her book toward the fire.

At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be amused with her own book and fretting about Jane's proximity to her naïve and lovesick brother, she gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library."

To Elizabeth's amusement poor Miss Darcy seemed to freeze in shock at being finally addressed. When no one else made any reply either, Caroline then yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement; when hearing her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said:

"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "she may go to bed, if she chooses, before it begins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send round my cards."

"I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of the day." Something, Caroline thought, that would allow her to covertly court the woman that she was interested in, rather than perpetually accepting the attention of boring men.

"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball," said Mrs. Hurst. Mrs. Hurst flicked one of her bracelets. She peered over at her husband. The big lug of a man hung half off a sofa in the corner of the room. Drool trailed in a long stream from his pudgy lips. By god, she needed this ball. Needed to hunt down some young military man to take to bed. With any luck, the young, virile man will get her pregnant. She frowned at the idea of little Mr. Hursts running around on chubby legs. Her gaze shifted to her sister, and she found herself looking at Miss Eliza methodically sewing. The only blight on the upcoming festivities was the presence of that Bennet family.

Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but Jane, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly drawn into conversation with her brother. In the desperation of her feelings, she to seek distraction in her previous efforts to encourage the match between Elizabeth and Darcy. Resolved on one effort more, and, turning to Elizabeth, said:

"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude."

Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Miss Darcy looked up. She was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed her book. She was directly invited to join their party, but she declined it, observing that she could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives her joining them would interfere. "What could she mean? She was dying to know what could be her meaning?"—and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand her?

"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, she means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing her will be to ask nothing about it."

Miss Bingley, however, was eager to continue any exchange between Miss Darcy and Miss Eliza, persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of her two motives.

"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said she, as soon as Caroline allowed her to speak. "You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss…" Darcy paused for a second. She swallowed unsure if she wanted to declare her attraction to Miss Eliza, even in a subtle manner. Was it really right to declare a preference for the young lady when their situations prevented a match?

"Or?" Caroline prompted. She turned to Elizabeth, and said in a faux confidential tone. "I fear, dear Miss Eliza, that Miss Darcy wishes to keep secrets from us."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the pair.

Darcy flushed, and then continued before Caroline could continue to mock her attraction to Miss Elizabeth. "Or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."

"Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. She clasped the hand not woven within Miss Eliza's to her chest. "I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish her for such a speech?"

"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. She leaned toward Caroline conscious of Miss Darcy's gaze on her. "We can all plague and punish one another. Tease her—laugh at her. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."

Miss Caroline laughed. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Jane look at the jubilant woman. "But upon my honour, I do _not_. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me _that_. Tease calmness of manner and presence of mind! No, no; I feel she may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Miss Darcy may hug herself."

"Miss Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. Her gaze locked onto Miss Darcy. The woman rested her left arm on the armrest of the sofa. A stiff, cold, and superior goddess who presided over the room. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to _me_ to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."

"Miss Bingley," said Darcy, "has given me more credit than can be. The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."

"Certainly," replied Elizabeth—"there are such people, but I hope I am not one of _them_. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, _do_ divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without." Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at Darcy.

Darcy frowned. Images of the vicious children of the ton teasing her when she started dressing in mens fashion flashing through her mind. She forced her gaze onto Miss Elizabeth. Surely she had never been such a child. Darcy may not be able to court Miss Eliza, but she wanted her good opinion. She had to explain. "Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."

"Such as vanity and pride."

Caroline's gaze skipped between the pair. Disastrous. Did the infernally stubborn individuals need to bait each other? How did she fix this?

"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation." Caroline winced when she saw Elizabeth turn away to hide a smile.

"Your examination of Miss Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley eager to end, if not erase this attempt to form a connection between the women; "and pray what is the result?"

Elizabeth paused for a second. Her gaze on the silent, proud woman who declared she could regulate her own pride. That, as far, as Elizabeth could tell seemed to be her own obvious defect. "I am perfectly convinced by it that Miss Darcy has no defect. She owns it herself without disguise."

"No," said Darcy. Darcy pulled once again at her cravat. "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."

"_That_ is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. Caroline squeezed her arm. Elizabeth ignored the pressure. Miss Bingley would not prevent her from facing Miss Darcy's challenges. "Implacable resentment _is_ a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot _laugh_ at it. You are safe from me."

Miss Darcy's mind trailed to a young man with many failings who had stolen the laughter from his family for far too long. "There is, I believe," Darcy said only half aware of what she spoke, "in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

"And _your_ defect is to hate everybody."

Elizabeth's words shattered the dark void that she had momentarily fallen into. Elizabeth was delightfully opinionated. Although, her opinions, she noted, often arrived from hasty assumptions or fast wit rather than in-depth analysis or truth. "And yours," she replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."

"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation and eager to distract the pair from delving into a conversation that would permanent injure their opinion of each other. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?"

Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened; and Darcy, after a few moments' recollection, was not sorry for it. She began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.

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><p>End notes: And that is chapter 11. Please let me know if you have any comments or questions. I'll try to get you the next chapter (it'll be a shorter one) either tomorrow or Monday night.<p> 


	8. Chapter 12

As promised here is chapter 12. As I said earlier, this chapter is very short. The next one which should be up next week should be a little longer.

Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story!

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><p><strong>Chapter 12 <strong>

In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively resolved—nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.

The communication excited many professions of concern from Mr. and Miss Bingley; and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had proposed a delay, for her jealousy upon her brother commandeering all of Miss Bennet's time and her dislike of Mrs. Hurst's sly comments concerning the unsuitability of the Bennet family outstripped any pleasure she received in Elizabeth's company.

The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right. Even Caroline's gentle questions about Jane's health to Elizabeth could not dissuade the women from delaying their return.

To Miss Darcy it was welcome intelligence—Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted her more than she liked—and Miss Bingley had transformed into a match-making monster who spent half her time fanning the flames of Darcy's attraction, and the other half mercilessly teasing her dear friend about that interest. Fiona Darcy knew that a good portion of Caroline's zeal for Darcy's love life stemmed from her own unrequited attraction the eldest Bennet daughter.

She wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should _now_ escape her, nothing that could elevate Caroline with the hope of influencing her felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, her behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to her purpose, Darcy scarcely spoke ten words to Elizabeth through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, she adhered most conscientiously to her book, and would not even look at Elizabeth. After dinner, Darcy chose a seat on the far side of the room too far from the party to invite conversation.

On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits.

They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. But their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Jane and Elizabeth. He was ready for a conversation that did not revolve around the officers.

They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and human nature; and had some extracts to admire, and some new observations of threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married.


End file.
